For The Plot Is Stupid And I Have Touched Myself
by Charli Cameron
Summary: Oneshot. Data has 24 hours to decide on a costume for the Enterprise fancy dress party. Hilarity and misunderstandings ensue. What did you expect? It's Data!


Lieutenant Commander Data looked at the gaudy poster that was stuck on the turbo lift doors. "Fancy Dress Party" it said "Friday night. 8 till late. Ten Forward. Be there or be square". It seemed to him to be a very crude method of advertising, primitive almost, and the message made no sense to him. "I do not understand the point of these pieces of paper that have been stuck up." He remarked to Commander Riker who had appeared alongside him.

Will Riker laughed "It's nostalgia Data. To make the party atmosphere a little more genuine. Complete Twentieth Century retro."

"But why?"

"It's something we humans do from time to time. We enjoy re-living the past. To play at how our ancestors used to live. Have you decided on your costume yet?"

"Costume?" said the android, puzzled "I thought dress uniforms were required. The poster says fancy dress. Are our dress uniforms considered costumes?"

Riker slapped him playfully on the back and laughed loudly again "No Data. Fancy dress means dressing-up. Play-acting. You disguise yourself as someone else. Someone famous usually. You really should make a decision, the party is only a few hours away."

"I understand Commander, and who will you be going as?"

"That, my friend, is for me to know and for you to find out later on tonight."

"And how will my not attending turn me into a square?"

"You've taken that literally, right? Four sides, all equal in length?"

Data nodded and received another shoulder pat and hearty laugh in return as Riker walked off.

* * *

"Hello Geordi."

The engineer looked up from the panel he was working on. Alone in a Jeffries tube, he hadn't been expecting company. "Hello Data," he put down the sonic-screwdriver and turned around "What's wrong?"

Data hunched up his legs and sat down next to his friend "Geordi," he began "What costume will be you be wearing to the party?"

"Well, it's supposed to be a secret, so don't tell anyone else…"

The android mimed zipping his lips shut and throwing away an invisible key.

"…I'm going as Queen Victoria."

"Queen Victoria?"

Geordi nodded "You know," he suddenly changed his voice to a high falsetto and attempted an English accent "we are not amused."

"But Geordi, Queen Victoria was a female and you, most definitely, are not."

"That's the point Data."

"I see. So assuming an alternative gender can also be part of the dressing-up. What should I go as?"

"I think you should go as a nun."

"A none. A non-entity. You think a personal cloaking device would provide adequate amusement for this event?"

"Well it would in the right hands. No I meant…." Geordi sighed "Never mind Data, I'll see you at the party. Good luck with your costume."

* * *

Data managed locate both Deanna Troi and Dr Beverley Crusher at Motts, having their hair done in preparation for the party. "Hello Data," said Troi, as she lay with her head back in the sink waiting for the conditioner to soak in, "I don't believe you're here to receive any beauty treatments."

"You are absolutely right Councillor," he said "I am still trying to decide on my party costume and I am seeking inspiration. Can you assist me?"

The women exchanged glances, "This information is not to leave this room." said Beverley while Mott snipped away at her hair.

"I understand."

"I'm going to be Frankenstein."

"The mad Doctor. I see." Said Data "That makes sense. And you?" He turned to Troi.

"Well Data, I'm going as Athena." The women giggled.

"The Greek goddess…why is that amusing?"

"It's just that the costume is a little..."

The Doctor finished the sentence for her, "Revealing. It's very provocative Data." They giggled again, like schoolgirls.

"I see. And is scant clothing a pre-requisite for a good costume?"

Troi shook her head and sprayed the others with little globules of coconut rinse "Not at all. But it does make for an interesting one." And they started giggling again.

"Thank you ladies." Said Data and left.

* * *

Worf sighed as he watched Data step out of the turbo-lift and onto the bridge. He'd already heard about the costume interrogations the android had been making of the other crewmembers. As Data approached his console Worf said "Cowboy."

"Ah."

"Alexander's' idea of course."

"Of course" the android nodded.

"So that we can go together. One cowboy and one little Indian. He thinks the two together will be more effective. I think it is a pointless and childish charade, however," he lowered his voice and whispered conspiratorially "I have heard a rumour that Councillor Trois' costume is not to be missed."

Data whispered back "I believe that rumour maybe correct."

"And neither is Commander Rikers'."

"Do you know who the Commander is going as?"

"No."

And that was the end of that particular conversation. It just left one more person to approach.

* * *

"Enter." Called Picard from inside his ready-room.

The doors slid apart "Commander Data." He said, "What can I do for you?"

Data entered the room and approached his Captain "I am having a hard time trying to decide on a costume for the party tonight. I have been seeking advice and I wonder if you could provide me with your thoughts on the matter."

"Well if it's any help Lieutenant I shall be playing the part of Napoleon Bonapart. And," he glanced at the computer screen in front of him "you will have to excuse me any moment to go and get ready." Picard saw the dejected look on Data's face, apparently his emotion ship was currently in the 'on' position. "But if you would like some suggestions?"

The golden face brightened "I would be grateful for any hints you could give me Sir."

"History Data. History is the key to a good costume in my opinion."

"There would appear to be many differing opinions about the elements of a good fancy dress."

"You still have a little time left at your disposal. I suggest you do a little research and utilise what you have learned."

"Yes Captain."

"And Data?"

"Yes Captain?"

"Remember, often the best costumes, are the simplest ones."

"Thank you Captain."

* * *

By five minutes past eight o'clock that night, Ten Forward was packed solidly with a bright array of colourful bodies. Deanna Troi's goddess outfit was every bit as alluring as had been promised, a scant swathing of toga and little else. Dr Frankenstein and Queen Victoria had been very well received, not quite so much cowboy and little Indian. Napoleon was every bit as austere as the man in side the costume and not entirely happy with the discovery that his number one had come as his original. Will Riker made the strangest Jean-Luc Picard in living memory and it was almost certain to be the most talked about costume of the night. Almost. Except that Data had yet to arrive.

Athena, Queen Vic, Napoleon, Frankenstein, "Picard", and cowboy hovered near the Ten Forward doors, eager to catch sight of their colleague when he finally arrived. The doors opened and silence fell on the previously noisy room. Absolute silence. Data stood in the doorway in full fancy dress. Sort of.

In the end it was his friend Geordi who managed to speak first "Who, who are you Data?"

Data looked very proud of himself. "I listened to the advice from all of you and I have incorporated a little of your ideas into my costume. I am…" he thrust himself dramatically forward into the room and the sea of bodies quickly parted leaving him alone in the centre "…Lady Godiver."

"Yes Data." Said Geordi slowly.

Long tresses of blond curls tumbled from the wig on Data's head and hung glamorously down the androids naked back. The twin golden domes of his exposed buttocks shone softly in the twinkling party lights. "But Data," said Geordi, pointing in the direction of the android's anatomically correct manhood "What is that supposed to be?"

"I am so glad you asked Geordi. Mr Worf gave me the idea. A second costume."

Picard looked at the Klingon accusingly, Worf just shrugged helplessly. Perched atop Data's genitals, were a pair of glasses and, poking out from underneath the said genitalia, was a cigar.

"This, is Groucho Marx…"

"…I can make his glasses wiggle up and down…"

"…Look, no hands."

THE END


End file.
